Life is a balance between chaos and tranquility, often overshadowed by our relentless pursuit of purpose, our “why.” From the moment we gain consciousness, we’re thrust into a world demanding answers to questions we didn’t know existed. This quest for purpose is not linear but cyclical, much like the stages of grief.
At 24, having grown up faster than many of my peers, I’ve realized that life’s purpose comes in waves, each more profound than the last. These waves have shaped, challenged, and defined me. Reflecting on them, I see a cycle of pondering purpose and asking, “Why?” The first wave of introspection hit me between the ages of 6 and 9.
Rather than filling me with wonder, the concept of existence filled me with dread. I often cried, consumed by the belief that my very existence was a mistake, an accident in the grand scheme. I questioned why I was born and why I had to endure life’s hardships when, in my young mind, there seemed to be no reward at the end of the rainbow.
This wave was marked by self-loathing and self-pity, a belief that my purpose in life was merely to serve as a cautionary tale—a lesson in the importance of proper family planning. It was a dark time when I couldn’t see beyond the immediate pain and confusion. But as with all waves, it eventually receded, leaving me with a faint glimmer of hope that there might be more to life than what I could see at that moment.
As I grew older, the second wave began to take shape, defined by a r.